The first peep of daylight through the studio skylight found the
mountain boy awake. Before the daylight came he had seen the stars
through its panes. Lescott's servant, temporarily assigned to the
studio, was still sleeping when Samson dressed and went out. As he put
on his clothes, he followed his custom of strapping the pistol-holster
under his left armpit outside his shirt. He did it with no particular
thought and from force of habit. His steps carried him first into
Washington Square, at this cheerless hour empty except for a shivering
and huddled figure on a bench and a rattling milk-cart.
The boy wandered aimlessly until, an hour later, he found himself on Bleecker
Street, as that thoroughfare began to awaken and take up its day's
activity. The smaller shops that lie in the shadow of the elevated
trestle were opening their doors. Samson had been reflecting on the
amused glances he had inspired yesterday and, when he came to a store
with a tawdry window display of haberdashery and ready-made clothing,
he decided to go in and investigate.
Evidently, the garments he now wore gave him an appearance of poverty
and meanness, which did not comport with the dignity of a South. Had
any one else criticized his appearance his resentment would have
blazed, but he could make voluntary admissions. The shopkeeper's
curiosity was somewhat piqued by a manner of speech and appearance
which, were, to him, new, and which he could not classify. His first
impression of the boy in the stained suit, slouch hat, and patched
overcoat, was much the same as that which the Pullman porter had
mentally summed up as, "Po' white trash"; but the Yiddish shopman could
not place his prospective customer under any head or type with which he
was familiar.
He was neither "kike," "wop," "rough-neck," nor beggar,
and, as the proprietor laid out his wares with unctuous solicitude, he
was, also, studying his unresponsive and early visitor. When Samson,
for the purpose of trying on a coat and vest, took off his own outer
garments, and displayed, without apology or explanation, a huge and
murderous-looking revolver, the merchant became nervously excited. Had
Samson made gratifying purchases, he might have seen nothing, but it
occurred to the mountaineer, just as he was counting money from a
stuffed purse, that it would perhaps be wiser to wait and consult
Lescott in matters of sartorial selection. So, with incisive bluntness,
he countermanded his order--and made an enemy. The shopkeeper, standing
at the door of his basement establishment, combed his beard with his
fingers, and thought regretfully of the fat wallet; and, a minute
after, when two policemen came by, walking together, he awoke suddenly
to his responsibilities as a citizen. He pointed to the figure now half
a block away.